Unexpected Methods of Communication
by luvsanime02
Summary: One-shot. Roy is surprised when Edward is quiet. Ed is surprised when Mustang isn't.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, and this is for pleasure, not profit. I would never insult Arakawa Hiromu by implying otherwise.

**AN:** Rated M for mature sexual situations. Based on the manga. For reference, in case anyone cares, Ed is 16, almost 17, in this. Roy is 30. (Edited 12.2013)

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**Unexpected Methods of Communication** by luvsanime02

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Edward Elric is surprisingly quiet during sex.

Roy wasn't expecting that. If anything, he'd thought he might need to move to another townhouse within two weeks of them starting a physical relationship just to keep from being caught in a compromising situation when the military police broke down his door. Not only were they trying to be discrete, what with fraternization rules and pederasty laws being broken at least once a day, but Roy really didn't think he could stop in the middle of having sex with Edward, unwanted audience and impending prison time or not.

Not that Roy actually planned on testing out that theory.

So yes, it certainly came as something of a shock that Edward was silent during sex. Not submissive. That idea was, frankly, more alarming than amusing. But still, there were no moans, no sharp curses, no howling into the sheets. Sometimes, when Roy forgot to be thankful, he was just a little bit disappointed. And embarrassed.

Roy himself wasn't exactly silent. He didn't shout or make any high-pitched caterwauling noises, which he was eternally grateful for, having heard them only once before and subsequently been put off by a desire to laugh at his partner more than anything else. Quiet moans and sharp, involuntary exhalations were much more preferable when looked at in that light.

In the silence of his bedroom though, or whatever room of his townhouse they happened to be in when they were having sex, Roy's soft noises, that he'd never before thought of as anything other than normal, were loud. His only saving grace, he supposed, was that Edward never honestly seemed to think anything of them. Or, if he did, he was being uncharacteristically, mercifully silent on the subject matter.

He wasn't violent either, which Roy hadn't actually even considered until they were having sex up against the wall of his study, his erection rubbing against Edward's prostate teasingly before he thrust in deeper, and Edward's automail foot had kicked back and hit his shin in a reflexive spasm. Roy hadn't stopped, of course, but it had urged him to pull Edward's hips out just a little bit more and really put his back into his thrusts. There was nothing like the threat of a cracked bone to hurry a man along.

Then again, that action had caused Edward's head to bang against the wall unexpectedly, which in turn caused him to curse out loud into the quiet, so Roy supposed he should be grateful for that twitch. Still, Roy would never describe Edward as violent. To convey his wants he used looks, which oftentimes were beyond Roy's ability to read, but that he followed up with hands and thighs, feet and lips, and the occasional wriggle. Roy loved that last one best, even if they did sometimes result in more noises than he was entirely comfortable making, because they usually involved controlled muscle contractions around his erection, pulling him deeper in teeth-gritting increments.

No, Roy didn't think he could stop in the middle of having sex with Edward Elric by any strength of will. Not even that first time, when the lack of noise had made Roy concerned for a few moments that he was the only one enjoying himself during the encounter. Edward's own obvious erection had eased those fleeting thoughts, but the silence had seemed deafening then. Roy had looked down into black eyes lined by a rim of golden amber and set to it anyway, ignoring the quiet, and watching instead the vague discomfort ease from the lines of Edward's mouth and eyes as Roy kept up a smooth rhythm, pulling out until only the crown and head of his erection were still inside before slowly pushing back in.

The next time had gone steadier. And the time after that, when Roy expected the silence by then and was more intent on increasing the number of positions they tried, and with Edward relaxing into the not-newness of the experience, experimenting with him.

What Edward was, when they were having sex, was completely in control. Not in any of the obvious ways that Roy had come to expect from a lover. Edward had yet to demand they switch roles, and Roy didn't know if he ever would, not that Roy was exactly adverse to the idea. Nor did Edward want to tie Roy down, or even hold him down with his body, which Roy knew outweighed his own by way of the automail. He never verbally demanded that Roy speed up or go slower, never pushed or pulled or yanked his hair ever, the last one of which Roy was very grateful for.

Edward just _moved_. His body was flexible, as expected, and Edward used every ounce of knowledge about its muscles and tendons and ligaments and bones to show Roy exactly what he wanted. A flesh and blood right hand curling around the back of his neck meant he wanted folded up almost in half for a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss, while a similar left hand stroking the same spot meant Edward was going to stretch out, his back firmly against the sheets, legs moving from their position around his waist or shoulders to splay wide, feet pressed flat to the bed.

Whatever the command, Roy obeyed, in a way he'd never done before with anyone else. He usually didn't even realize he _was_ obeying an order until the act was far over with. It made sex with Edward unique, sometimes startling, sometimes disconcerting, and almost always spectacular enough that his vision flashed white when he came.

Edward was quiet in bed but he was far from inexpressive, and as Roy settled into him, as they learned to settle into each other, even the silence became full of communication.

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Ed had expected Mustang to be quiet during sex.

Not that Ed had given much thought to having sex with the other man. At least, not until he'd learned a little bit more about Roy Mustang as a person. Attraction, Ed knew, was a chemical reaction in the brain. He'd almost always known that Mustang was attractive, in an objective way, but it wasn't until he'd heard the man's goals and learned of his past that Ed began to notice how dark the man's eyes were. It took the realization that Mustang, of all people, was an idealist before Ed started jerking off in the shower to the thought of Mustang's hands instead, still gloved, wrapping around his erection and making him come.

Ed started noticing a plethora of facts about Mustang after that. Well, more like noticing that he had already subconsciously noted down these facts in the first place. Like the fact that Mustang wouldn't yawn unless it was into a hand, as discreetly as possible, and not so much because of etiquette but because the man didn't want anyone else to see that he was capable of being tired. Or the way he drank his coffee with milk in it, which was disgusting of course, but not enough that Ed didn't want to suck on Mustang's tongue and lick every one of his teeth.

That he had seen Hell, although a different Hell than Ed had been privy to, and that it was there in his eyes every time he snapped his fingers, gloved or not now. That he hated bowing to his supposed superiors but never ever lowered his eyes anymore while doing so, and certainly never lowered his head to expose the back of his neck.

Mustang had a temper too. This had perhaps been the only observation that had genuinely surprised Ed. He'd seen Mustang act calm under the most trying circumstances. Even if the man yelled, his control was iron-tight. Ed had assumed Mustang was naturally this way. It had taken learning about the Ishval Civil War, about how devastating a human weapon Mustang could be, before he'd realized what those slight body quirks, like folding his hands under his chin or holding a pen idly in his fingers, actually meant. All were ways of keeping his hands occupied so he wasn't tempted to literally direct a line of fire at someone in frustration or anger. The thought made the hairs on the back of Ed's neck stand up, but it didn't stop him from looking.

When he noticed Mustang looking back, it hadn't really surprised Ed. Mustang had been watching him since they met, though the purpose behind his stares had certainly shifted with time. Ed had become very conscious of just how dry his mouth could turn with a single glance.

So, they'd had sex. Ed had expected it to be awkward, and it was. He hadn't known what to do with his hands at all, or where to put his head on the pillow exactly, as it hadn't felt quite right no matter where he subtly shifted it to. The actual penetration had not exactly hurt, but almost burned at first, which Ed had thought slightly uncomfortable but tolerable. It was the pressure that he'd actually had to adjust to.

Still, once Mustang was actually in him and Ed had caught onto the right breathing pattern required, he'd been able to notice the shifting of his own muscles as Mustang pulled out, and feel those same muscles give way when the man pushed back in. Ed got caught up in the unceasing movement, and the way Mustang stroked his erection in a counterpoint rhythm until he came, toes curled in the sheets.

What Ed had noticed more than anything, though, was the little noises Mustang made. Those had caught Ed completely off-guard, but he'd found it incredibly interesting at the same time. They were grunts mostly, almost moans, and groans when he came. Ed hadn't expected Mustang to give up enough control of himself to make any noise at all.

Later, after Ed had started experimenting and learned how fun sex could be with someone willing to indulge him a little, he had come to the conclusion that those noises were involuntary. Well, he figured that was perfectly fine. Ed didn't really care what noises the other man made as long as he was still willing to lick Ed's anus, to run his tongue around the outer edge before flicking just the tip inside. Ed had discovered that nothing was guaranteed to make him gain an erection faster than that.

And it was those noises, in the end, that led to Ed discovering all the different ways of turning Mustang on. It didn't matter that Ed rarely needed to do anything more than be in the room, and sometimes not even that. Not that Ed thought this was a bad thing, or that he wasn't the same, but Ed loved figuring out all the different ways to accomplish his goal of having hot sex with Mustang. He'd heard that people with new lovers were like that, wanting to discover everything they could about each other's bodies, but Ed had never thought it'd be true.

Mustang loved having his feet touched. Ed thought this was weird, in a way that few things were weirder. Making noises while having sex was nothing compared to actually liking someone playing with your feet, in his opinion, but he'd only had to run his finger over the bottom of Mustang's foot once while licking up pre-cum from the tip of Mustang's erection before the man had groaned loudly and come. Something to consider for another time.

Mustang wasn't ticklish however, and Ed had been very disappointed to find this out, as it would have made excellent blackmail material. Ed knowing that the man would come if you played with his feet would be kind of hard to explain in the office, but that he was ticklish? Ed could have done some major damage to Mustang's reputation with that. Not that he would have, if he was being completely honest with himself, but just the threat would have had Mustang leery around him for a while.

Of course, there would have also been the threat of counter-blackmail to consider. Ed didn't know what observations Mustang had made about him by now, but he had no doubt that the man's mind had them listed in a numerical order based on the level of embarrassment each one was capable of inducing. Ed knew that Mustang was about as likely to divulge some newly-discovered personal information as Ed himself, but he also had no doubt the man would fight fire with fire figuratively as well as literal.

Mustang might not be quiet while they were having sex, but Ed was a genius, after all. He learned rather quickly to adapt to the situation, to the man himself, and to the delightful realization that not even a transmutation circle had ever communicated with him quite so precisely.


End file.
